


A Taste of Something Different

by chuck_finley



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-05-29 11:58:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6373822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuck_finley/pseuds/chuck_finley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It could have been worse.</p>
<p>She could have spilled her entire cappuccino-with-extra-cream-because-why-not all over his shirt. </p>
<p>Then she could have proceeded to stumble backwards into his (brother?) while trying to grab some paper towels. </p>
<p>Oh, wait. </p>
<p>At least she had the courtesy to apologize. Although it was hard to hear over him yelling and gesturing profusely at his "brand new button down" and his "tie that was worth more than her college degree".</p>
<p> She sighed. Today was not her day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste of Something Different

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first-ever fic. Having come off a Destiel addiction (withdrawal symptoms may or may not include re-watching supernatural episodes only featuring Dean and Castiel) I decided to try something new. This is an idea for a story I had a while ago but it never really panned out until now. Anywho, the supernatural community is my favorite, and you guys are awesome. *Insert Charlie's Star Trek sign here* Enjoy! :)

It could have been worse.

She could have spilled her entire cappuccino-with-extra-cream-because-why-not all over his shirt.

Then she could have proceeded to stumble backwards into his (brother?) while trying to grab some paper towels.

At least she had the courtesy to apologize. Although it was hard to hear over him yelling and gesturing profusely at his "brand new button down" and his "tie that was worth more than her college degree".

She sighed. Today was not her day.

"LOOK, _I'm_ sorry for spilling my cappuccino on your shirt, but are those comments really necessary? Do you have to insult my education just because I ruined your precious article of clothing?" She seethed. The paper towels became two small brown balls in her hands. She had a habit of saying whatever was on her mind, even if it constantly got her into trouble.

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "You little-"

"Hey, hey, let's all just calm down," The man she presumed to be his brother stepped in between them. He continued, "We can stop by the dry cleaners on the way to our case, okay?"

He turned toward her, grinning sheepishly. "Sorry, my brother's a little bit of a maniac, we'll be on our way now." He grabbed his brother, who was mumbling angrily under his breath, and walked out the door. The door rang a bell as they stepped out. She shook her head and proceeded to try and salvage what was left of her drink.

As if things couldn't get worse, one of the strangers had left his phone on the table. She groaned and picked it up. _Not my problem_ , she thought. _I'll just drop it off at the counter and they can pick it up later_. Before she could, however, the phone rang.

'Castiel' popped up on the bright screen with a picture of a bemused face as the contact picture. Against her better judgment she answered.

"Uh, hello?"

"Dean it's Castiel and I'm in a situation at 103 Oak Court please come quickly okay bye." The words rang out in a quick succession. Before she could answer the caller hung up.

Shit. She should definitely _not_ put that address tidbit into her smartphone. She _should_ return the phone immediately and leave. People don't take calls from strangers' cell phones and investigate. But she couldn't help being curious... and if the caller was in trouble...

Zoë threw away the rest of her cappuccino and left. The coffee shop door was still closing by the time she was starting up her car.

 <><><><><>

This was a horrible idea. Even worse then the one time she decided it would be fun to try a Carolina Reaper. The address led to a shack in the middle of god-freaking-nowhere. _That looks like something you would see in Fallout_ , she thought. As stealthily as she could she rummaged in the back seat for a flashlight. Her Leatherman was in her sock in case she ran into some trouble. She clicked the flashlight on and ascended the three battered stairs that led into the house.

"Hello? Is there anyone here? I know this is weird but I answered a call and-" She stopped talking when the flashlight revealed a man on the ground. _Oh God_. He was wearing a trench coat, which she thought was cool but a little bit odd. It was ripped and frayed along the edges and patterns of blood reached her eyes. She bent over him and checked for a pulse. When she laid two fingers on the side of his throat, her hand became feverishly hot. Glowing blue eyes opened to meet hers.

"AHH-" Her shriek was muffled by a hand over her mouth. The man in the trench coat made a 'be silent' gesture with his hand. He looked past her in search of something. Zoë turned her head too but in the dark she couldn't see a thing.

He slumped back dejectedly for a moment, then fixed his eyes back on her. They were still a stunning blue but without the glow they had moments before. His hand tightened on her face.

"Who are you?" He asked in a gruff manner. The stranger in the trench coat lifted his hand.

She gulped in a breath of air. "I'm nobody, I was just acting stupid and answered a cell phone that this douche left-" _Thwack_.

Something hard hit her in the back of the head. She slumped forward and blacked out.

 <><><><><>

"Cas, who the hell is she? Why was she bleeding? Tell us what happened!"

"She just wandered in, I don't know, the demon hit her on the back of the head with a rod before I could exorcise him..."

"She looked kinda familiar..."

"Why'd you bring her _here_?"

Voices wavered in and out. She opened her eyes and groaned. Her head felt like she had lent it to a group of kids for soccer practice. The voices were coming from the other room. Standing up, she held a hand to her head and looked around. It had been bandaged, which raised the questions: Who had bandaged her head? Where was she? Who was that blue-eyed trench coat man? Was there a bathroom nearby? The last one had no immediate connection to her new bandage but it still needed an answer.

The logical part of her brain told her that she should reach for her Leatherman and try and escape wherever she was. To her dismay, she realized that her Leatherman was missing from her sock. _Shit_. With more caution she tiptoed out of the room she was in, sticking close to the wall.

"What do we do now? She knows where the bunker is..."

"She got knocked out pretty bad. Maybe she won't remember what happened."

_Crash_. She could have sworn that lamp was farther away on the table. Three pairs of eyes focused on her.

_What to say, what to say_... "Uh.." She came to a standstill.

"It's that chick from the coffee shop! The one that ruined my shirt!" One of the eyes, a startling green, narrowed at her.

"Dean, is this really the time?" The tallest of the three shook his head. Zoë was bewildered. She recognized them from the coffee shop. _My life just keeps getting weirder_ , she thought.

Her attention focused on the blue-eyed stranger. "Are you okay?" She questioned.

He tilted his head to the side. "Shouldn't we be the ones asking you that?" He answered.

Just like in the coffee shop, the tall one stepped forward in between her and the one called 'Dean'. He reached out his hand. "Hi, I'm Sam, this is Dean," he gestured to the scowling person next to him, "and this is Castiel." He nodded his head toward the blue-eyed man.

"Sam! You can't just go off and tell strangers our names! For all we know she could be a monster!"

"Dean, we've performed all the tests _three times_."

"Yeah, but we're also discovering new monsters each day! Who knows if she's some type of new creature!"

"Hey!" She said. "I have no clue what the hell you guys are talking about, but I'm not some monster." She sighed. "My name's Zoë, I'm sorry again about the shirt, here's your phone," she hands the phone to the guy named Dean, "and I'm sorry about answering it and following the address. Admittedly, it was stupid." Silence. "Okay, well now I'm going to go home and forget that all this ever happened and sir, you might want to get your eyes checked out," she directed at Castiel.

More silence. "Can at least have my Leatherman back?"

Dean stared at her accusingly. "It should be mine for the damage you've done to my nice shirt."

"Dean, for crying out loud it's a _shirt_ -"

"And my tie!"

"This is not the time to argue about clothing articles!" Castiel commanded. Dean stopped his bickering but frowned at her.

"Now, how did you do that?" Castiel continued.

"Do what?" She said, confused.

"How did you heal me?"

"I didn't heal you. I was checking for a pulse to see if you were alive." Her answer didn't seem to satisfy him. She suddenly remembered her hand becoming swelteringly hot when it laid against his neck. But when she rotated her hand front to back there were no burns or anything out of the ordinary.

His eyes caught the movement of her hand. It looked as if he had more questions but he remained silent.

"Anyway, before I go, can I use the bathroom? It's kind of urgent." Zoë teetered from side to side.

"Actually it's _may I_ -"

"Cas. Stop. It's down the hall, second door on your right." Dean nodded in the direction. Zoë muttered a quick thanks before rushing off.

"That's your fault for lending him your grammar book, Sam," Dean grumbled.

"Whatever, jerk. But seriously, how should we handle this?" Sam ran a hand through the sea of brown on his head.

"I have the feeling she is more powerful than she knows. We should keep her here for a while-"

"Woah, Cas, slow down. We can't just make her stay here."

"Yes, Dean, we can. I noticed a pair of handcuffs in your bedr-"

"I TOLD YOU TO STAY OUT OF MY ROOM!"

"The door was open, and-"

"Guys. Please." Sam sighed. "If you're right, Cas, we should try and keep tabs on her for a little bit longer. But we can't make her stay here. Why don't we give her our numbers so that if she needs to she can call us?"

"Cas said her head was pretty banged up. She might have a concussion or something... I'm not sure I like the idea of her out on the road."

  <><><><><>

In the bathroom, Zoë splashed cold water on her face. _Why had they wanted to know if I was a monster? I mean, I know I'm not drop-dead gorgeous, but still, I can't be that bad_... She mused as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. A face with green eyes almost covered by the bandage and black hair cascading down to her shoulders like a slow-moving river looked back. Suddenly an unpleasant feeling settled in the back of her throat and she was hit with an intense wave of nausea.

"What the..." Zoë hurriedly deposited herself near the toilet and vomited. Her arms shook as she tried to lift herself up. The world felt like it was spinning around her, swallowing her in a blanket of darkness that she unwillingly fell into.

"Hey princess, not to be rude or anything, but could you hurry it up a little?" Dean called.

Nothing.

"Should one of us go and see if she requires assistance? Castiel questioned.

"I don't think it's something you can help her with," Dean laughed until he received a glare from Sam, "but go knock on the door and see if she's alright."

Castiel moved over to the door and knocked twice, softly. "Zoë? Are you okay?"

Silence.

"Zoë?"

He strained to hear.

"Zoë, I'm coming in since I did not hear anything," Castiel opened the door cautiously, peering around the edge. The first thing he noticed was a listless arm palm facing toward the ceiling, attached to a body lying on the floor.

"Zoë!"

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like it! Story's not finished (obvs). Maybe Chapter 2 will feature pie. Maybe. If you leave a kudos I might send you one of Castiel's blue ties (you're so welcome).


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